


The New Old Kid

by nameless_wanderer



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Coming Out, Kinda, M/M, Spierfeld Week, basically simon moved away when he was young and now he moved back, idk what you want its fluffy spierfeld go nuts, like three ppl come out in this fic alone, mixes book and movie, mostly just straight up au, rated teen for language and nothing else, teenage rebellion (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 23:10:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14271570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nameless_wanderer/pseuds/nameless_wanderer
Summary: Simon hates being the new kid. He's entered school two weeks after his classmates, he's sore from trying to help move heavy furniture into the new house, and he's exhausted from the lack of sleep he got last night. He's not sure about moving back to his childhood hometown, but he is sure about one thing: the first day of school can leave a long lasting impression.(for day one of spierfeld week)





	The New Old Kid

The first day of school sucked. Especially when you were the new kid. Especially when you transferred into this new school two weeks into the year. Especially when you spent most of yesterday lifting heavy objects into your new house. Especially when you only got two hours of sleep the previous night.

Needless to say, Simon Spier was not doing too well at this moment. He found his first period just seconds before the bell rang and since most of the seats were taken he had to take one that was awkwardly placed kinda in the the back but kinda just off-center. And it was AP Calc. He hadn’t heard the teacher call on him, until he looked up and suddenly everyone’s eyes were on him. He missed his recognizing the faces in his classes, even if he wasn’t friends with any of them. He looked over at the teacher who was staring at him, unamused. Simon stared back blankly. He didn’t know what to say. The teacher sighed.

“I said, we have a new student in class today. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?”

Normally Simon’s brain would’ve been in perfect working order. He would’ve understood exactly what was being asked and would have no problem squeaking out a few sentences about himself. But today he was sore and exhausted, and his brain wasn’t working properly. Even if it had been, he was in no mood to tell his whole life story.

“Because I’m exhausted and would rather just get on with today’s subject.” The other students giggled at this. Simon’s eye was drawn to a boy sitting just a few rows ahead of him. He was a cute boy, Simon thought he might be a soccer player (he was strangely good at identifying soccer players). He a small smile and a shy demeanor, but Simon felt that unlike most of the other students, this student was laughing _with_ him, and not _at_ him (Simon had found before that was a very fine line to walk, and he too often found himself swayed in one direction or the other). Their eyes met for a brief moment and he felt lucky that he had no shame or energy to look away suddenly.

He wished he’d payed attention to the roll call. Maybe he’d know the cute boy’s name.

The teacher frowned. “Will you at least tell us your name?”

Simon paused. It was a reasonable request. He was just exhausted. “Uh… it’s… I’m, um...Simon,” he finally managed to get out. “Simon.”

“...And your last name?”

“Is that pertinent to today’s discussion or is it just not on your attendance sheet?”

“...Fine. We’ll do things your way, mister… Spy-er?” Simon’s expression didn’t change. “Is that the correct pronunciation?”

“Not really but we’ve wasted enough time.” Simon wasn’t sure why he was in such a snarky mood today. That was a lie. He was perfectly aware. He was just too tired for everything to register in a reasonable amount of time. The teacher pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

“So we were talking about the derivatives of position functions, the first derivative being velocity and the second being…” he waited for the class to fill in the blank.

“Acceleration.” Simon only heard one other voice fill in the blank with him. He pivoted his head around the classroom, and his eyes locked once more with the cute boy. The boy smiled at him, blushing slightly. Simon smiled as much as his tired lips would let him, hoping to indicate some friendliness to the boy.

“Thank you, Mr. Spy-er, Mr. Greenfeld. Now, who can tell me what it means when A of T has a value of zero?”

The rest of the class dragged on. Simon spent most of the time with his eyes half-closed, alternating between staring at his desk, staring at the board, and staring at the cute kid a few rows ahead. Their eyes met three more times throughout the class. Normally, Simon would blush and look away instantly, but he was too tired to have that common sense today. Instead he stayed staring, even when the boy looked away. He smiled at him when the boy did look back, and suddenly he was fantasizing about talking with the cute boy, laughing with the cute boy, holding hands with the cute boy, kissing the cute boy…

Suddenly, cute boy was looking at him again. With a quick yet subtle move of his eyes, he indicated to Simon that the teacher asked him a question. Simon looked at the board, working as quick as his brain would allow to figure out what was going on.

“Mr. Spy-er, I asked you—”

“What’s the value of the second derivative when ‘t’ equals five.” Simon looked at the board, then down at his scattered notes. It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out.

“Well, Mr. Spy-er?”

“Um...Zero.”

“Are you certain?”

Now Simon was beginning to get annoyed. “Pretty certain.”

“Why don’t you check your work again.” Simon was too tired to argue. So he checked again. And he saw the one mistake he’d made: mistaking x values for y values.

“Oh. It’s undefined. My bad.” He didn’t intend for this statement to be rude. But the delivery came out less dead and more deadpan. And the teacher didn’t seem to take too kindly to this.

“Mr. Spy-er, I don’t know how things worked in your old school, but in _this_ school, we take work seriously. We get to class on time, we stay attentive and don’t fall asleep in class, and we’re respectful to teachers and administrators. I hope by our next class, you’ve learned this lesson well.” The teacher turned back to the board. Normally, Simon would be embarrassed, being called out like this. He’d feel all the pairs of eyes in the room lock onto him. He’d hear all the words whispered between friends, surely mocking him. He’d feel his cheeks go red, and he’d shrink into himself, whatever spark of rebellion he had dampened by shame.

But today he was too tired to feel ashamed. Today, that spark found dry kindling. And all he could feel was the burning within himself.

“Are you serious right now?” The teacher turned back around, not yet sure how to react to Simon. “Yeah, I made a simple mistake, but I saw what was wrong and I fixed my answer in one of the hardest subjects there is. I’d like to see you function half as well as I am right now having to catch up with an advanced subject you’re two weeks behind the rest of the class on, having done the same amount of work I did yesterday, and having had the same amount of sleep last night.” The murmurings throughout the class ceased and the teacher did all he could to not look taken aback. “Even if all of that was the same, you're an adult, and your circadian rhythms actually make sense, which means you can actually fall asleep and wake up at normal times. We’re all still teenagers, and our circadian rhythms are all kinds of fucked up, we shouldn’t even be awake before nine, but here we are at school, two hours earlier.” Simon heard a few statements of encouragement, agreeing with what he’d said. The teacher looked angry with Simon. Simon couldn’t tell if it was a real anger, or if it was a teacher anger, with a mix of ennui and frustration.

“That attitude and language has just landed you a meeting with Mr. Worth. Front office Spy-er,” he pointed out the door, “now.”

“Fantastic. Anybody wanna tell me where it is?” The teacher was about to respond when a hand shot up a few rows in front of him.

“I’ll show him, Mr. Granger.” It was the cute boy. Hadn’t the teacher said his name once before?

The teacher sighed. “Very well, Mr. Greenfeld, but hurry back.” Greenfeld. He’d have to remember that. The boy stood up and looked towards Simon. Mustering all his energy, he stood out of his desk, grabbed his backpack off the floor and walked in front of Greenfeld towards the door. The two took a leisurely pace as Greenfeld a.k.a. cute boy led Simon down the hall. Mostly because Simon was wincing with each step.

“You okay, dude?”

“I mean I’m sore and tired, so not particularly.” The boy smiled at him. God that smile. It was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “So… this is the way to the office?”

“Generally speaking, yes. But I’m not taking you there.”

“Oh?”

“Nope. Even if it were a good idea for you to talk to Mr. Worth, which it isn’t, you’d be way too spaced out to pay attention. There’s like a fifty percent chance you’d fall asleep anyway. Which is why I’m taking you somewhere where it’s acceptable to fall asleep.”

“The sleeping bag in my room at home? No, a couch in an abandoned choir room? No, a five-star hotel with the softest pillows and the most luxurious mattress?” Simon was really, _really_ tired.

“Eh, not quite.” He pulled Simon down a small hallway and into a suspiciously white room. “The nurse’s office.” A woman walked out of the adjoining room and looked at Bram. Her expression wasn’t unfriendly, but it was somewhat unyielding, as if about to have an argument she’d had many times before.

“No, Greenfeld, I can’t let one of your soccer buddies miss any more class because he scraped a knee or something.” Simon had been right about him playing soccer.

The boy chuckled. “No, it’s not like that.” The boy grabbed Simon’s hand and led him to get a better view of the nurse. His hand was warm, and Simon could've blushed had he been more lucid. “It’s a new kid, first day here. Apparently he’s exhausted, did a lot of stuff yesterday and didn’t really get any sleep. Granger was provoking him.” The nurse looked at Simon and her brow furrowed in concern. Simon wasn’t quite sure what he looked like at that moment but he was sure it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Honestly, I’d call it a miracle you’re still standing on your own two feet, kid. Why don’t you lie on one of the cots in the back?” Simon nodded in appreciation. “What’s your name? I need it for the form.” Simon looked at Greenfeld, who nodded encouragingly.

“Simon. Last name spelled ‘S-P-I-E-R.’” He looked at the boy, who was waiting with him, that smile still on his face. God he was adorable. “Spier,” he said to the boy. “I’m Simon Spier.”

“Alright, Simon, just lie down back there and take a snooze,” the nurse said. Simon nodded absentmindedly.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later, Spier,” the other boy said. Simon smiled.

“See you later, Greenfeld.” And with that, the cute boy walked out the door and back to class. Simon walked towards one of the cots, setting his stuff down beside it. He sat down on the cot for a second before laying down completely on his back. But a funny thing happened as soon as he was lying down: his eyes refused to stay shut. He was staring at the ceiling, trying to force his eyes to close, but they just wouldn’t. He sighed, figuring he would just wait in silence for… something. It was only a minute or so before the nurse came back towards him.

“Are you going to actually sleep?”

“I really, really want to. And I really, really should.” The nurse looked at him, a glance that merely asked for the truth, not as an adult to a child, or a nurse to a student, but one person to another. “But I’m probably not going to. I seem incapable of it right now.” The two remained, unspeaking. “My next class is in… F hall? So if I can find that room I’ll just go to my next class I guess.”

“Granger is still in B hall?” Simon thought about it, then nodded. “So you’re gonna wanna take the staircase in the middle of B hall, you know, the one that’s not quite just outside of Granger’s room. E hall is right above B hall, and F hall is just three small corridors contained within E hall.” Simon nodded as the nurse explained this, but at this last description left him mouthing _why?_ Halls within halls? What was up with this school? “But you should probably avoid Greenfeld, for your sake as much as mine. He gets a little… protective over his friends. Motherly, even. He finds out you didn’t get any sleep he’ll send you right back here.”

Simon doesn’t move. He wants to shift uncomfortably. But he refuses to. “I just met him this morning. We’re not really friends.”

“Tell that to him. He’s clearly taken a liking to you.” Simon felt that in any other situation he would be blushing. But now he just felt blank, unsure how to feel. “I’ll let you stay here until the bell rings. About seven minutes from now.” She turned to leave and walk back into her office when Simon realized the question he really should’ve asked.

“What’s his name?” The nurse stopped and looked at him. “Greenfeld. Granger only uses last names. Kinda infuriating. And he didn’t re-introduce himself on the way here.” She looked at him and smiled, a knowing and friendly smile that Simon would almost describe as a warm smirk. He wondered if she knew that he found Greenfeld cute. Had he really been that obvious?

“Abraham Greenfeld,” she replied. She walked back towards her office, then stopped at the last second. “His friends call him Bram.” Bram. Simon would have to find some way to remember that.

The seven minutes in the nurse’s office were over quickly. Simon grabbed his backpack and somehow hobbled to second period, careful to look around in case Greenfeld—Bram—saw him. The rest of the day dragged on for ages. Each period was endlessly long, though admittedly not as bad as calculus—then again, none of the teachers were harassing him the way Mr. Granger had. He couldn’t take any more of it. It had to be close to the end of the day. The final bell had to ring any second.

The bell rang. Simon looked up at the clock, hopeful.

11:35. It was time for lunch.

Simon made his way to the cafeteria and trudged through the line. He looked around, unsure where to sit. He had gotten to lunch late, so most people had already claimed a table. But somehow, miraculously, there was a table with no people sitting at it right in the middle of the lunch room. Maybe sitting alone was the loser thing to do, but he literally had no friends. And he didn’t want to fake conversation with people for half an hour while he was this exhausted, or worse, sit in silence with a group that was chattering nonstop. He made his way to the table and sat down, his muscles silently thanking him for making the Very Smart decision to not stand. He looked at the tray of public school lunch food in front of him. Normally he would’ve made his own lunch, but there was no food in his fridge at home. 

He pushed the tray towards the middle of the table. No way was he gonna eat this crap. He pulled the hood from his hoodie over his head (something he rarely did) and rested his face down on his arms. Maybe he could finally get some sleep this way. There wasn’t much to look at, just the fabric on his arms and the table beneath that. With the hood on, it was dark enough that he couldn’t see. Maybe he could sleep like this. He tried relaxing his breath. Through the background noise of the cafeteria, the sound of footsteps became more present, walking in the general direction of his table. He thought they would walk right past him, get food from the line or something. But they didn’t. They stopped. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Spier.” Simon lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. It was the cute boy from first period. Bram.

“Hey, Greenfeld.” Simon smiled and quickly used a hand to pull the hoodie back off his head. “What’s up?”

“Well, being the new kid on your first day of school in the middle of the semester is famously awesome, and I’m sure you’ve worked hard procuring this cool loner vibe, but my friends and I were wondering if you wanted to sit with us.” Bram pointed back towards a table where four people currently sat. One guy sat on the far side of the table. He gave a small but not unenthusiastic wave. Simon guessed Bram had been sitting next to him. He looked nice, if a little bit like a basic white boy (then again, who was Simon to talk?). The other side had three people squished, a guy between two girls. The girl closest to him was smiling and eagerly waving him over—Simon, not Bram. Simon thought she had a class with him earlier, and she had seemed pretty enthusiastic but then again he had been so spaced out all day he couldn’t be certain. The boy seemed to be looking at Bram, waiting for a response. The other girl was looking between Simon and Bram, an enigmatic expression on her face. There was something about the latter two, Simon couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something… there was something about them.

Simon turned back to Bram, an apologetic smile on his face. “That’s really nice of you. Really, I appreciate the offer, and be sure to tell your friends that I appreciate them going along with this since I feel pretty positive this was your idea.” the cute boy turned his head, trying and failing to hide an adorably bashful look, “It’s not that I don’t want to join, but I literally can’t feel any of my limbs. Even if I could stand up, I would probably black out after two seconds. Take a rain check?” Bram smiled, but his eyes betrayed the tiniest hint of disappointment. Nevertheless, he nodded.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you in calc, Spier.”

“Take care, Greenfeld.” As Bram walked back to his table, Simon pushed the hood back over his head and resumed his hunched over, head-on-arms position and began pondering the encounter. It hadn’t gone terribly. It could’ve gone better. On any other day, when he wasn’t so sore and tired. He wondered if maybe he’d ruined his first impression with Bram. Maybe he could make it up tomorrow. He had a whole year to talk to him, get to know him better.

But not today. Not when he was tired, and irritable, and sore, and all of a sudden it sounded like a thousand people had to bet back into the lunch line, the chatter become louder and antsier as more and more people passed his table. And then suddenly the new chatter ceased almost completely. It was strange. One second it had seemed loud and getting louder. Then… had he heard shushing? Was that right? Alright, he had to see what was going on. He slowly lifted his head…

From under the hoodie, he could make out Basic White Guy, Other Guy, and Enigma Girl sitting across from him. He quickly removed his hood and looked around, finding Bram and Enthusiastic Girl on either side of him. They all looked at him, expectantly. SImon wasn’t sure what to say.

“...Did I somehow sleepwalk to your table?” This comment received a few snickers from the group, particularly the two guys sitting on the other side of the table.

“No,” came a voice from his left. Enthusiastic Girl. “Bram said you were too tired to join us, so I was like this is ridiculous, let’s just join him. So I did.”

“I followed her,” Other guy said.

“And I followed him.” Enigma Girl.

“And then I followed her.” Basic White Guy.

“And I had to follow him,” Bram finished, a smile on his face. As Bram continued talking, Simon looked around at the table. Now that he could see them, Simon realized what it was about Other Guy and Enigma Girl. They seemed kinda familiar. Maybe he’d had classes with them or something. Probably. Right? He stared at them, feeling like the answer was within reach. A hand waved in front of his face. Simon turned to Bram.

“You hear any of that? Need us to introduce ourselves again?” Simon laughed apologetically and put his head in his hand for a brief second.

“No, I didn’t hear it. I’m sorry, even if I was focused today, I’d still forget your names. I mean, today’s a bad day but I’m just… really, really awful with names.”

“Actually, I have a tip for that,” Bram said. Simon tilted his head, curious. “See, what you gotta do is…” Bram looked around then beckoned Simon closer, as if about to tell a secret. Simon turned his head and leaned his ear closer as Bram put his hand around it and whispered. It seemed such an intimate action for only knowing someone for a few hours. When Simon heard the words he was whispering, his eyes opened wide in shock and horror.

“Dude, that’s the most sadistic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know, I know, but it works. Try it now, um…” Bram looked past Simon, towards Enthusiastic Girl. “Abby, introduce yourself.” Simon turned to face the girl (Abby?), who cleared her throat and held out her hand.

“Hi. I’m Abby Suso. We have third period together.” Simon accepted the handshake. Despite himself, as their hands moved up and down, he did as Bram had suggested: he imagined saying her name while shooting her in the head. _Abby Suso._ His eyes opened wide again, grounding himself from his reverie.

“Dude, that is sick. That is fucked _up_.” He looked at Abby. Not Enthusiastic Girl. Abby. “And I am never going to forget your name as long as I live, Abby Suso. Dammit, Greenfeld.”

“Told ya.” He could practically hear Bram smirking.

“What happened to you that’s so bad you can’t stand up or even remember names?” Enigma girl asked. The others looked at her as if trying to reign her in, but Simon wasn’t sure why. It was a fair question, and one he had no reason to lie about.

“We just moved into our new house, and by that I mean we unpacked all the heavy things we could. That’s all I did yesterday, lift heavy objects and a lot of running back and forth between the house and the truck. Which I would be fine with except somehow we didn’t unpack any of the mattresses so I had to sleep on the floor.” The others winced sympathetically. “Yeah, that didn’t work out so well, I got...maybe two hours of sleep. I’m so tired.”

“So, New Kid,” this was Basic White Guy speaking, “what do you like? Any sports or hobbies or anything you’re gonna try?”

Simon shook his head. “Nah, no sports, I don’t have the physique for soccer like you three guys.” The others all stared at him, vexed.

“Dude, how did you know we play soccer?” Other Guy asked.

“I have really good hunches for that sort of thing.” Maybe it was the calves. But then again, he hadn’t really been looking at their calves. “I was in choir for a few years, but I’m not a very good singer and the drama of it all kinda ruined it for me…” Simon stared down at the table as he thought about what to tell them. There wasn’t much to say. He wasn’t super interesting or anything. Then he remembered something. He held out a finger, remembering. “I was supposed to be in my school’s production of _The Music Man_ last semester,” at this, he noticed Abby light up, “but then some weird stuff happened and I couldn’t do that. Also _Music Man_ is just kinda not really my favorite show.”

“Dude, you should totally audition for the musical!” Abby practically squealed. “Auditions are coming up soon, you just have to sing a few bars of something and say like two lines of a monologue and they’ll stick you in the ensemble!”

“What’s the musical?”

“I’m honestly not sure. I’ve heard from some people it’s _Oliver!_ but Taylor Metternich seems convinced we’re doing _Cabaret_. In any case, I’m auditioning and so should you!”

Simon nodded, a pensive look in his eyes. He looked at Abby and smiled. “Yeah, I think I will.” If Abby was trying to hide her excitement, she wasn’t doing it too well.

“So are you really as badass as Greenfeld says?” Other Guy asked. Simon wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. But Bram stepped in for him.

“I’m telling you, he talked back to Granger. Like called him out on his bullshit after giving him the right answer. Tried to send him to the principal’s office.” Bram smiled at Simon, and Simon smiled back.

“This guy saved me, though. Took me to the nurse’s office. Told me to sleep.”

“Did you get any, by the way?”

“Would you believe me if I said I did?”

“Dude,” Other Guy said, “I think that officially makes you the most badass guy at this table. I mean, you’ll have to grovel tomorrow but for now, savor this moment Mr. Badass.” Simon smiled at this. It was an oddly direct nickname, but he liked it.

“Alright,” (Simon wondered if Abby carried all the conversations at this group’s lunch table or if it was just his presence that was throwing things out of whack), “I wanna know everything about you. Where are you from, New Kid?”

“Abby,” Bram’s soft voice, now oddly authoritative, came from behind Simon, “let the guy rest for like two seconds.”

“And where do you get off on calling him New Kid?” Other Guy asked. “Just two weeks ago, you were New Kid.”

“But now there’s a _newer_ kid. I’m Old New Kid. He’s New New Kid.” The others chuckled at this, but Other Guy burst into laughter at this. There was definitely something between him and Abby that Simon wasn’t quite getting.

“Well, following that logic, I’m not New New Kid, I’m New Old Kid.” The others looked at Simon, not even beginning to understand what he meant. “Um, to answer your question, I actually grew up here. Yeah, lived here for nine years, and then something happened with my parents work… I dunno, I’m not sure, and we had to move to Washington.”

“Washington state or Washington, D.C.?” Abby interrupted. The others looked at her, amused. “Right, not important right now.”

“Yeah, so we moved to Washington. We were only supposed to be there two, maybe three years, and instead it was… until three weeks ago? Yeah.” Abby, Basic White Guy and Bram all looked at Simon, intently listening and sympathetic. Other Guy and Enigma Girl shared a look that Simon didn’t quite understand. So he ignored it and kept going. “It’s kinda weird, because… well of course it was sad to leave my friends behind and stuff, but even then, I never let myself get too close to people in Washington because I just thought ‘oh we’re only gonna be here a few years’ and I still had really close friends back here. There were two friends I had, I remember, that I was super close with. I thought we were gonna be friends forever, I’d just leave for two years and come back and act like nothing had changed. But then it was like four times longer. And of course, everything changes anyway.” Simon sighed. He had gone into full-on nostalgic rambling, and try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself. 

“It was me, a guy, and a girl, and we were neighbors, and we did all kinds of dumb shit on the playground. We’d make up stories, and jump from swingsets, and sleep over at each other’s houses. We were like real friends. And somehow, I missed that part of what real friend do growing up because I kept thinking ‘any month now I’ll get to go back and see my real friends.’ But I didn’t. Because I was a kid and we didn’t have cell phones back then, and remembering phone numbers is hard, so eventually, you just kinda… forget. I dunno. Maybe I should see if I can find them again.” The whole table remained silent. There’s something so true about nostalgic reminiscing that can reduce anyone to a weird mess of emotions with not real outlet for catharsis.

Simon looked up. Other Guy and Enigma Girl were staring at him intently.

“What did you say your name was again?” Enigma Girl asked.

“Oh, um… I didn’t, I don’t think. Simon. Simon Spier.

Other Guy and Enigma Girl quickly turned to look at each other, a kind of telepathic conversation between them that only those who’ve known each other forever can truly pull off. They turned back towards Simon.

“Tell me,” Other Guy began, “did this guy friend you had live down the street from you? And was he always hurting himself, scraping his knees and stuff trying to play some invented ball game?”

“And did this girl friend,” Enigma Girl continued, “live just across the street from the guy and was kind of an annoying girl who was a master of sarcasm by six years old?” 

As the others stared at the two friends, smiles crept across their faces in understanding. Simon however remained confused. In his exhaustion he had no idea how on earth they could know all this.

And then suddenly he had an idea. His mouth opened slowly as he began to understand.

“Leah?” Enigma Girl’s mouth tilted upwards in the biggest, most amazed grin he’d ever seen. “Nick?!” Other guy practically jumped out of his seat. He rushed over to the other side of the table and gave Simon a big hug.

“Holy shit, Leah! Simon Spier is back!”

Simon laughed. “Nick is still a hugger! Good to know some things never change.”

“And this annoying, sarcastic girl has turned into an annoying, sarcastic woman. You better hug him extra hard for me, Nick, lord knows I’m not about to ruin my cold and detached image by jumping out of my seat to hug my childhood friend.”

“Not too hard!” Simon protested. “I’m still very sore.”

“Shut up, you big baby,” Leah countered, getting a laugh from everyone. Nick returned to the other side, leaving Simon dizzy from the revelation and slightly sore from the hug.

“Dude! We gotta catch up!” Nick said, enthusiastic.

“Yeah, you have to tell us literally everything that happened in Washington,” Leah said.

“Again, D.C. or state, I still can’t tell?” Abby mumbled.

“I mean, there’s not much to tell.” Simon rested his elbow on the table, put his chin in his hand, and closed his eyes, which now felt incredibly heavy. “I’m kind of uninteresting. I started seeing a lot of theater but never really participated until last year, and even that fell through. Choir was fun even if I had bad voice but the drama was terrible…”

“Oh come on, there’s gotta be something,” Leah insisted.

“What about all the girls you’ve dated! I mean, look at that face, he’s gotta be breaking _some_ hearts.” Leah and Garrett rolled their eyes at Nick, telling him to stop. Simon didn’t open his eyes.

“I dated like one or two girls, but I’m gay, so,” Simon mumbled, trailing off. The table, which a second ago had been so lively and happy, was now so silent and tense. Simon didn’t even register the change at first. He almost felt he could drift off to sleep. And he thought about what he had said.

Simons eyes snapped open. He looked down at the table, unable to meet anyone’s gaze.

“Did I just say what I think I just said?” Nobody said anything. The silence built up, making each passing moment even more awkward. “Oh no,” Simon whispered quickly. He put up his hood again and began pulling on the strings, bringing his head to meet the table. “ _Ohhhhhhhhhh noooooooooooooo_.”

He felt a hand rubbing his back. “It’s okay, Simon,” Abby said reassuringly.

“Were you out at your old school?” the Basic White Guy asked.

“No. This is the first time I’ve said that. Can we just pretend I didn’t say that? Or at least not make a big deal out of it? I’m so exhausted why did I come to school today?”

Simon felt another hand gently taking off the hood.

“Hey, it’s fine, we don’t have to make a big deal,” Bram said in soothing tones. “I mean, we’re all chill with it.” Simon looked around and saw everyone was nodding supportively. “And, um, I’m gay too.”

The first thing Simon noticed was how fast Basic White Guy’s jaw dropped (side note, he was gonna need a name for Basic White Guy). He then saw Nicks eyes widen in surprise as Leah looked on, thoughtful. He turned to see Abby smiling at Bram, a knowing twinkle in her eyes.

Nick shook his head. “Alright, anybody else wanna come out while we’re at it?” There was a humor about this statement that echoed around the table, until it came to Leah.

“...I mean, I’m bi…” Simon heard laughing next to him. Bram laughing, and it was the most beautiful sound he ever heard. So warm and friendly, and not even teasing, just joyful. Simon would swear that if the Basic White Guy’s eyes widened any further they’d pop out and if his jaw dropped any further it would fall right off. Nick put his head in his hands, shocked by all the unceremonious coming out statements. Abby smiled and tried to contain her laughter. He looked over to Bram and Leah, who were similarly amused, but there was something in their eyes that he suspected was in his, too. A mixture of shared terror and relief, with a side of _what comes next?_ He wasn’t sure what came next, but the fact that he wasn’t alone on this made everything feel so much better.

“But everyone else here is straight?” Basic White Guy asked.

“I mean, more or less…” Abby mumbled. Nick looked like his brain was about to explode, until Abby quickly holds up her hands defensively. “Kidding, kidding!” Nick breathed a sigh of relief. “Sorta,” Abby added, probably to annoy Nick. It would’ve worked too, if not for Leah.

“Alright,” Leah commanded attention as she put her hands up, “I vote that in honor of Simon’s return we don’t make a big deal out of any of this and just keep eating lunch. At least for today. Can everyone agree on that?” Everyone nodded.

“So you’ve had a pretty exciting first day,” Basic White Guy said. One side of Simon’s mouth perked up in a grin.

“Yeah. Auditioning with Abby, found Leah and Nick, found out Leah and Greenfeld were gay—sorry, bi in Leah’s case, and…” Simon stared at him, lost for words. “I’m sorry, I still don’t know your name.”

The boy chuckled. “Garrett. If it makes any difference.”

“Makes a load of difference. And it’s better than ‘basic white guy,’” Simon joked.

“Wait, what?”

Slowly, the conversation turned back to normal, or whatever could be considered normal after whatever all of _that_ was. Simon’s eyes were still half closed and he was laughing along when he felt a tap on his right shoulder. He turned to find Bram facing him directly.

“So you’re gay.”

Simon nodded. “Yep.”

“So earlier in Granger’s class when you were staring at me…”

“Partly spaced out from lack of sleep. But a lot because I think you’re really cute.”

Bram chuckled. “Are you always this direct and honest?”

“No. I’m exhausted. Why do I insist on speaking words?”

“Well, for the record I liked it. And I think you’re cute too. And I think we should go out to dinner, or a movie. Like a date.”

“Are _you_ always this direct and honest?”

“Only when a guy like you inspires me.” The two smiled at each other, not speaking for some time. “So what do you think about going on a date?”

Even through the exhaustion Simon didn’t need to think about that. “I’d like that, Greenfeld.”

Bram’s smile somehow grew wider. “Call me Bram.”

“Hi Bram.”

“Hi Simon.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be for the spierfeld week day one prompt, "alternative first meeting" but i'm so tired idk if i'll get time this week to do the rest, this was supposed to be a fun drabble but now its this so enjoy i guess


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